"kick my brains around the floor - these are the days it never rains but it pours" - Queen, 'Under Pressure'

Under Pressure

We all have pressure on us every day. Often work puts pressure on us. Other times, family does. Of course, most of all, we put pressure on ourselves. But what if the pressure we feel comes from within us? What do we do then?

If you're a regular reader, you've noticed that I haven't been writing as much lately. A few weeks ago, I had a pretty stressful day. I had a student freak out in my class, I was in a worrisome union meeting (thank you, Senate Bill 5) and SC bit some kid at the sitter. After I got SC to bed that night, I began having a horrible headache. By the next morning, I was throwing up and in so much pain, it was almost unbearable. I took SC to the sitter and, eventually, called my parents to come down from Cleveland. I ended up at a local hospital, where I was diagnosed with a migraine and sent home. A day later, it hadn't gone away, and my brother drove SC and I up to my parents'.

At my parents' house, the headache gradually went away, but as soon as it did, I began seeing two of everything. This was reminiscent of high school, when, after my initial brain surgery, CSF built up in my brain. When that happened, I had double vision, no short term memory, couldn't taste anything, and had no sense of balance. I can barely remember it, but I think I was in a kind of fog. Eventually, my brilliant doctor at the Cleveland Clinic figured out that I had hydrocephalus and inserted a shunt from my brain into my stomach, which drains the fluid out of my body. Whenever I tell anyone this story, I can see them looking at me covertly, trying to figure out where the hell the tube is. It's tiny, and it starts at the top of my head, loops through my brain (my neurosurgeon is very proud of the parts of my brain that it drains), goes behind my right ear, down my neck and into my chest. I could take your hand and trace you its path until it gets to my boob (if you're lucky!), but you can't actually see it. Anyway, double vision is one of the indicators that I am always checking for so that I can make sure the shunt is working. Double vision is a warning sign.

I called my neurosurgeon's office, but the Cleveland Clinic has like 5 million layers that you have to maneuver through to get to the actual doctor's office, so I couldn't get an appointment for weeks. One of the secretaries suggested that I come into the emergency room and see the neurological residents. I held off for a few days, but finally, we packed up and took off for the Clinic. When I got there, I was taken back immediately, and when I mentioned my neurosurgeon's name, I was taken to a private room, given tests, and offered drugs. I knew the guy was a big deal around there, but apparently, he was a huge deal. At one point, a senior opthamology resident examined me and told me that it wasn't my brain that was the problem, but my eye. He suggested that I see an eye doctor, and I was sent home.

Back to my parents' house, then. I stayed there until the end of the week, sleeping 18 hours a day. I figured my exhaustion was from the double vision. I patched one eye with gauze and spent a lot of time in the hot bathtub in the dark. I discussed my next steps with my parents, too. I couldn't drive with double vision, and my stamina was very low. At first, my dad wanted me to go on disability and move in with them. I quickly scrapped that idea. Then he wanted me to leave SC with them until school was out. I told him no. My mother suggested that I move in with my brother's family and have my oldest niece drive me around everywhere. That just brought up memories of when I lived with them after I left my husband. Finally, I suggested that I have my friend Liss and her husband help drive me around, and have my ex-husband come help with SC from time to time. Everyone agreed, and SC and I went home.

I went back to teaching, but it was hard. That first week back, I could only make it half a day before becoming exhausted and going home to sleep for hours. My ex-husband stayed at the house, which was more helpful than annoying because I couldn't do it on my own. I couldn't even cook dinner for SC and myself. I had lost all of my independence. To make it worse, I didn't even have the strength to feel sorry for myself - it was all I could do to work a little, love my kid, and stay awake long enough to text a few people and communicate with people in my life.

On May 2nd, I went back to the Cleveland Clinic. I had an appointment with my neuro opthamologist at 8 in the morning. I assumed that I would be scheduling an eye surgery, maybe for June, after school was out. After getting tested by an assistant, my doctor walked in. He grinned as he saw me, because he had done my initial eye surgeries in 1996 and 1997, and we had always liked each other. At first, we joked around (well, he wasn't really joking, he said, "I don't make mistakes", referring to his surgery). Soon, he was more concerned. "It's not your eye," he said with a frown. "I'm going to call Luch (the brain surgeon), but you have pressure in your brain."

I was dejected, but I consoled myself with the fact that I didn't have to have disgusting eye surgery. My parents were really worried, and I felt horrible for them. SC was terrified, and I felt even worse for him. The eye surgeon said that I might need to get a spinal tap, but that I should go to my afternoon appointment with the brain surgeon and he would tell me what to do. Then he hugged my mom and SC, shook my dad's hand, and gave me a wry grin before sending us off.

We had all day to kill, so we went shopping and had lunch. At the restaurant, SC hugged me, and sobbed, "Don't go to the hospital, mommy! Don't go to the hospital!". I tried to console him as best I could. I put up a front of being strong, but inside, I was terrified. More brain surgery? Would they cut my hair? I liked my hair. What was going to happen?

Eventually, we got back to the Clinic, and I went to see my brain surgeon. I really like him, as well, and he did his best to put me at ease. The bottom line, he said, was that fluid was building up in my brain, and they weren't sure why. It may have been trigged by the pressure of that horrible day when this all started. The other option was that it was a problem with my shunt, but my shunt didn't look kinked or broken in any of the films they had taken. This pressure was why I had been so tired and weak. My brain was being pressed - it was working upstream, so to speak. So what could they do?  He laid out three options for that day. One - I could get a spinal tap so they could test the CSF. Two - they could tap my shunt and get the same fluid (basically, stick a long needle into the tube in my head - I'd had it before). Or Three - they could put me in high blood pressure medication and wait two weeks and see what happened. If nothing got better, I would likely have to have more brain surgery to tie off the initial shunt and put in a new one.

Of course I chose option three. So currently, I'm on the medication and I feel better. My vision isn't any better, though, so there's something going on inside my brain. I have much more energy and got through three full days at work this week - even yesterday, when my 8th period class made me want to defenestrate about half of them. I go back on Monday the 16th. I don't know what will happen after that. I assume I can finish out the school year. I hope that they can braid my hair and do the surgery in-between the braids. Or maybe everything will be resolved without surgery. Luckily, I have great friends and the most amazing family to help me through this.

I want to get better for so many reasons.  I want my ex-husband out of my daily life! I want to write more and help more with Support Atheism, as they need me now more than ever. I want to be able to spend more time with SC.  I want to drive! I want to retire the eyepatches. I want to be on that billboard for American Atheists that I was accepted to be on. So I'm striving to do everything I can to improve. I'm relaxing and doing neurological checks and taking my medication. And I'm trying not to feel the pressure - not the pressure from my brain, and not the pressure from the world.

I'll keep you updated.